Coffee Mugs
by AGENT Kuma-chan
Summary: Because he is Kanda and she is Lenalee and it might never be enough. What she wants might not come but she can make do. That's what she's good at. -Lenalee, Kanda, and the space in-between


**Title: **Coffee Mugs  
**Day/Theme:** August 4 / one day here and the next day gone  
**Characters/Pairings: **Lenalee, Kanda, mentions of the others  
**Notes: **So, I haven't been reading the latest chapters entirely, only somewhere midway in Kanda's past. D: Anyway, I'm taking a few liberties with that past and Lenalee's knowledge of it. Also, the ending needs work and this did not come out as planned.  
**Summary:** _It might never be enough but she can make do. That's what she's good at. __  
_...

...

...  
There is one last mug in her tray and it sits there, mocking her. The coffee in it (oh, but he would never have drunk it anyways, would he?) starts to cool, the steam vanishing in the air.

And all she can do is stare at the solid black surface and sigh.

"Where's Kanda?" she asks her brother as she picks up his latest mug, the last five broken over some silly dispute or another. He probably doesn't realize that it's a replacement. Over time and experience, she's learned to keep back-ups in case of mishap and he'll never know that the one she made for him originally had shattered three years ago.

She still has the pieces, kept safely under her bed. Still has the jagged shards and the memory of the smile he gave when she shyly presented it.

"Hmm? Oh, he's in," Komui glances down at his papers, his hat slumping to the left as he flips through the clipboard, "Austria right now."

"How long, do you think?"

"Three weeks." Her brother raises his head to look at. "Lenalee, are you getting lonely?"

"No!" The expression on his face makes her back away, giving an excuse about picking up the other mugs.

It's only when she's heading back to the kitchen when she allows herself to think of it. "Three weeks, huh."

It's going to be a long wait.

-x-

Kanda is the eight person she met in the order. No, if she were to count correctly, he would be the twenty-first, but she doesn't like to count those people. Their white, white hands and their cheap smiles grin in her dreams sometimes. They run up and down her body, measuring her, checking her, testing her. _Be a good doll_, they murmur to her as they force her to activate her innocence.

When she wakes from those dreams, she just lies there, unable to move. The chains feel real, more heavy and solid than they ought to be. They clamp over her limbs and pin her in place, the trapped butterfly.

It's on nights like these that she wants nothing more than to fly, up into the clouds, the stars, the sun, away from it all.

-x-

There is one thing she has never understood, and it is this: Kanda lets her whack him with clipboards and pinch his cheeks and generally scold him when he's stupid.

Allen merely tries to talk with him and sparks are shooting. Lavi mentions his name and the sword is flying. Komui once tried to force him to have the sit down, the talk he gives every exorcist that works with her, and he broke Komui's first robot instantly.

Perhaps it is because she's a girl, though he doesn't really interact with any other so she can't tell. There aren't really any other females besides Miranda and she's off training these days.

Perhaps, but this is something she pushes away. Kanda doesn't think along those lines.

-x-

Kanda has never smiled. Never, ever, ever. He frowns, he growls, he maintains a blank look when he's meditating, but never once has she seen him smile.

Which is all good, because she supposes the day he does smile, something must be going terribly awry. Still...

She glances over to where he sits beside her, his eyes shut and breathing slow. His hair is tied back as it usually is, two long bangs slightly framing his face. He has dark eyes and pale skin and even with all of those features, he still doesn't look all that feminine.

He'd be a knock out if he actually did smile. Not like Allen, who smiles warmly and kindly, or like Lavi, who shines brightly. No, his should be done softly. A small one. Barely there and gone before you know it, just like he is.

Lenalee giggles quietly, ignoring Kanda's twitch when he hears it. It's a good thing he didn't, because now only she knows that he isn't as cold and angry as he appears to be.

-x-

His past comes out as a shock, as a tidal wave. It swells her and while she wants to deny it, she knows just how real his situation is.

They can do anything, this order she belongs to, as long as they claim it will get the war over sooner. They can steal, cheat, lie, hurt, kill, and all with the bat of an eye.

She almost wants to grab his hand, squeeze it hard so she can feel each bone in his fingers, each vein on his hand. Wants to hug him and give him some warmth, some comfort, because the blood pouring through his arteries are as real as hers, his heart is as strong (stronger) than hers, and he is worth something.

Worth a lot of things.

Then she sees him stand, his back rigid as he gets up. His figure is, as it always is, a proud one, a defiant one. He doesn't need her help because these are demons he can kill himself.

These are demons he has slayed already and will slay again if needed. There is no need for aid.

-x-

Lenalee glances at her calendar, pouting slightly. "Three weeks? More like two months!"

It gets like that sometimes, with Kanda the best choice for these missions. He has the experience and the confidence to do each job. Allen isn't really allowed anymore, Miranda and Krory are training, and Lavi can't, so it's up to her and Kanda.

Only, with Komui, it's more like it's left to Kanda. There aren't that many exorcists these days, with all the Noah hunting.

Sometimes he just finishes one only to start another and Lenalee knows it must have happened again.

Ah well, she's used to this. To waiting by the door, wondering if her family, her precious puzzle pieces, will come back. Kanda doesn't really say anything when he catches on to her habit, merely hands her his report and moves on. Sometimes, if he's in a good (better, not good) mood, he grazes past her. It's barely a touch but it's warm and it's real and she knows he is actually back, not just her dreaming.

(she's dreamt of it often enough, because days turn into weeks turn into months and sometimes she just catches a glimpse of his face, of his hard eyes and cool remarks, before he disappears once more)

He's probably not back yet for another week but she makes an extra cup of coffee anyways. He won't drink it, she knows, but it's all she can do.

He'll probably never smile or catch her hand or do any of those little things that she sometimes wishes he would do. He'll be awkward about accepting any kind words or soothing touches, most likely just brushing them off as though they aren't needed. He won't save her because she's strong enough to do that on her own and he isn't one to waste time on useless actions.

She knows all this very well. She's a romantic in some ways, romantic enough to think the reason he accepts her is because they've been through a similar experience with cages and experiments.

She's realistic enough to know that might not be the case. She can also understand that this might never be enough for her but she can make do.

So she makes the coffee and tries to think of a way to make him drink it and this is how she reacts to him:

Naturally.

Because that is the only way he'd ever see her.


End file.
